


Hardest of Hearts

by jdmcool



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Assassins & Hitmen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:03:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmcool/pseuds/jdmcool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain John Watson, crack shot assassin, remembers the first time he met Mycroft Holmes and how he should've moved on when he had the chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based off [this lovely photoset](http://ughmycroft.tumblr.com/post/48671317409) I saw on tumblr, so yeah.

Checking the piece of paper against the various building doors, John kept repeating the number of the flat he was looking for quietly under his breath. To anyone who passed him, he probably looked a little lost, but he was fairly certain, as the numbers grew closer to that he was heading in the right direction. In fact, he was he certain of it as he found himself in front of the door he was after. Pocketing the piece of paper, he pulled out a key from his pocket and let himself into the flat.

It wasn’t a bad place, the flat. With the rather dark coloured furniture and the hanging pieces of art, as opposed to pictures of friends and family, it was quite the little bachelor pad. Running his hand along the frame of a portrait of some foreign landscape, John thought it a bit strange considering that Eduardo Lucas was a married man, but then, Lucas wasn’t really Lucas. According to the file John had been given, he was Henri Fornaye, a traitor to a number of countries, it seemed, who made the unfortunate mistake of getting involved with a government employee in an effort to get information.

The fact that his plan had worked was where John found himself entering the picture.

Walking around the flat slowly, he dragged his fingers along the inside of the lamps and décor as he took in the room. When his sweep of the man’s living room was done, John moved onto every other room in the flat, being as meticulous as he could while being mindful of the time. After all, the only reason he was at the flat was to make sure that Fornaye never got a chance to sell his information regarding the military treaty that was in the works.

Or see another day, but that really wasn’t John’s concern since Fornaye was the one who got himself into such a situation. John’s only job was to put an end to the situation before it had a chance to escalate.Something he feared he might not be able to do after failing to find any of the information that Fornaye had stolen.

Tensing as he heard the door open, John pressed his back against a wall, peeking around the corner to watch as Fornaye walked into the flat. He wasn’t that large of a man and definitely didn’t seem to have any clue as to what was to come as John removed the garrotte from his pocket. Fornaye merely shut the front door before moving on to the kitchen.

Wasting little time, John did his best to sneak up behind the man, wrapping the garrotte around Fornaye’s throat with a practiced swiftness, gripping the handles tight as Fornaye struggled against him.

“Where’s the information you stole?” John questioned, barely loosening his grip since the last thing that he needed was Fornaye escaping.

Sputtering and coughing as he continued to scratch at the wire around his throat, squirming as though that would do any good, Fornaye managed to croak out, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It was a bloody lie since Fornaye had been under surveillance since the information in question seemed to be spilled. They’d questioned everyone involved in the project thoroughly and in the end all roads led back to the Frenchman. But if he wasn’t going to make it easy, John was fine with that.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. Either way you’re a dead man,” he said as he pulled harder against the handles in an effort to bring about the man’s death as quickly as possible.

Fornaye, however, seemed to have a sense of self-preservation, no matter how small. Nearly dropping to his knees, face slowly turning blue, the man seemed to summon up a strange amount of strength, standing up just enough to ram John back against his stove.

Stove handle digging into his spine, John’s grip loosened at the sudden flash of pain, something Fornaye didn’t hesitate to take advantage of. Coughing, the man grabbed the jar of sugar and slammed it against John’s skull, waiting no time for him for to fall to the ground before making a laboured get away.

Groaning as he held his head, John watched blearily as Fornaye ran out of the flat. His head was spinning and he was certain that he was certain he was seeing double, but Fornaye escaping wasn’t an option. So with a small growl, John got to his feet and took off after the other man, hand brushing against his hip in a brief check for his Browning.

Rushing down the stairs of the building, couldn’t help but think that it was supposed to be a simple job. He was merely supposed to get in and get out and then call someone to deal with the body. Holding his head briefly as he nearly tripped down the stairs, he made a mental note to make Fornaye suffer for making his day a lot harder than what it was supposed to be.

Running out the front door of the building, John looked around briefly before spotting Fornaye as he looked back to check and see if John was still after him. Taking off without a thought for the occasional person on the street, John couldn’t wait to catch him. He was going to make him regret ever toying with the assassin when he was done with him.

Heart hammering in his chest as he began to catch up with the man, John tried to avoid the numerous people Fornaye shoved about in an effort to slow John down. Trying to push himself to move a bit faster, John bit back a growl as Fornaye rounded the corner. He was definitely going to relish getting rid of him, John thought right before he collided with what felt like a brick wall.

On the ground once again, John groaned at the idea of that bastard getting away. Taking a deep breath, he did his best to ignore the scent of cigar smoke that seemed to cling to the person under him. He had a man to track down and kill, even if the idea of breathing in the other man’s scent seemed impossibly more preferable.

Moving to get up, John immediately went still. The smell of cigars was something that he was more than ready to ignore, but the stiff feeling of something pressing against his hip wasn’t so easy to overlook. Furrowing his brows, he stared at the man under him, stunned to find the man staring back at him with an arched brow. Whoever the man was, he was expecting the worst and while John wanted to question it, he found himself beat to the point when his curious stranger spoke.

“Are we just going to lie here all day?”

“No.”

Of course, while he knew he had to get up, his body seemed less willing. Something about the distinctive feeling of a gun barrel pressed against him kept John where he was since he refused to believe he could’ve been caught up in the smell of cigars and stormy blue eyes. Not that his lack of movement seemed to bother the man under him. Going by the faint smile on his lips, he almost looked amused at the entire ordeal.

Clearing his throat, John shook his head and he forced himself to his feet. Dusting himself off first, he held out a hand to the other man, helping him get up as well. “Sorry about that,” he said, glancing around the man in some vain attempt to pinpoint his target even though he knew the man to be long gone. “I was uh… not watching where I was going.”

“You were chasing after that man in the brown jacket,” the man said, looking over his shoulder in the direction that John was looking. Turning back toward him, he pursed his lips as he dusted himself off. “Close crop blonde hair, about six foot, average build, grey or blue eyes. He had a rather distinctive mark on his neck that I think I may have been too busy looking at to notice you coming. Sorry.”

“You noticed all that in a few seconds?” John questioned.

With a rather self-satisfied grin, the man shrugged it off as though it was nothing before holding out a hand toward John. “Mycroft.”

“Nice to meet you,” John said, shaking his hand somewhat wearily.

Narrowing his eyes as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, Mycroft let out a small noise of amusement. “Do I not get the benefit of getting your name as well?” He questioned

Shoving his hands into his pockets, John nodded toward Fornaye’s flat and said, “I should really be going.”

“After that man?” Mycroft called out after him.

Forcing up a small grin, John nodded as he kept moving. Questions were never a good thing when it came to what he did and the sooner he got away from Mycroft, the sooner all the man’s odd inquiries would come to an end.

“Well in that case, he’s a lucky man,” Mycroft said, a smug look on his face as he did.

Stopping in his tracks, John knew he should’ve kept moving. He could practically pinpoint the moment he had screwed up, but there was no ignoring that remark. Not when he was damn near certain that the other was flirting with him. After all, Fornaye was already in the wind and while he wanted to track the bastard down before he managed to leave the country, there was something about Mycroft he couldn’t quite ignore.

Instead his found himself laughing quietly to himself as he shook his head at the remark. “Trust me, I’m not the sort of guy you want after you.”

“Are you a cop?”

“No. Uh… Army. Soldier.”

“I suppose if I ask what he did to incur you’re attention you’d refuse to tell me that as well?” Mycroft asked, although he seemed to understand just what it was they were playing at.

“Just a bit,” he said with a small shrug.

Certainly if he could afford to tell the mysterious, well-dressed man about himself, he would’ve. But, as the situation stood, he couldn’t even afford to stand around talking to him like he was, not that such a fact had stopped him yet.

Furrowing his brows in thought, Mycroft looked him over as he moved closer to John. Standing up a bit straighter under his gaze, John didn’t miss the way that Mycroft’s lips quirked for a brief moment, likely amused by the fact that even at his full height John was still considerably shorter than him. If anything, John likely resembled a child trying to seem big in a pathetic attempt at posturing.

Of course, if that was on his mind, he made no mention of it. Instead, Mycroft licked his lips as he continued to look at John in thought. “So I get no name or information about you except for the fact that you’re a soldier, have a bad shoulder from where you were once shot, a sibling who I’m betting is older than you and happen to be interested in me, partly because I smell of cigars. That seems unfair”

Taken aback, John stared at him, doing little more than blinking, for a long moment before looking down at himself. When he failed to find what it was that Mycroft saw, he asked him, “How do you know that?”

“It’s written on your face,” he said as though that explained anything. Pulling out a card from the inner pocket of his coat, he held it out John. “So, I’m going to take a risk and give you my number. I hope to hear from you.”

“I’m not that type of guy,” John said as he pocketed the business card.

“What type? Interested in men?”

Rolling his eyes at the sarcastic question, John shook his head. “Adept at having a social life.”

“Well, I’m not any better considering that I was just leaving work to go home and do more work. If you call, though, perhaps we can try to become socially adept together,” he suggested in a way that made it sound so very easy and tempting.

It was a dangerous game, but John was curious and felt confident that his curiosity wouldn’t get him into a situation that he couldn’t handle. Still, to simply agree to go along with Mycroft’s idea was something he couldn’t do either.

Clenching his jaw, John clasped his hands behind his back as he ducked his head, staring up at Mycroft through his lashes as he thought. “You going to tell me how you know so much about?”

“Do I get a name?” Mycroft asked, not missing a beat.

“I’m John.”

“Simple. Far simpler than I would’ve thought.” Appearing to mull over John’s name, Mycroft eventually nodded to himself as he came to a decision on the matter. “I like it.”

“I do too,” John said cheekily. “Now, that information about me? The shoulder thing and all that? How do you know that?”

“I’m a very observant man,” Mycroft answered. Pulling out his pocket watch just as John was about to speak, the man held up a finger to silence him. “Sorry. I hate to dash, but I should be going. Work and all, yes?”

He didn’t even give John a chance to respond before he started to make his retreat, something that John figured was partially out of spite for when he had done the same. Still, John didn’t care for the bit of turnabout and couldn’t resist calling out to Mycroft’s quickly retreating form.

“Being observant isn’t a real answer, you know.”

Turning toward him, Mycroft shrugged helplessly. “I don’t have time to explain, so I guess if you ever want to know you’ll have to call me,” he said brandishing his pocket watch like some strange, flirtatious White Rabbit. Pocketing it as he continued on his way he turned away from John, lifting a hand in a small wave as he did. “Goodbye John. Have a nice time chasing after your bad guy.”

Waiting until Mycroft was well out of sight, John pulled out the business card he had been given to look it over. It was really quite plain. White card stock with nothing more than a number prints on the front of it in slightly slanted font. There was nothing distinctive about it aside from the faint hint of Mycroft’s cologne, but that didn’t stop John from flipping it in his fingers as he continued heading back to Fornaye’s flat to get a hint as to where he might run to.

Work was the most important thing in his life, he reminded himself as he tried to remember that he was after a man that had been playing fast and loose with state secrets and could be a serious threat to a treaty that was in the works. Mysterious strangers that smelled of cigar smoke and expensive cologne were nothing more than a distraction and he couldn’t allow those. He couldn’t even allow himself to have an honest relationship since he didn’t do the kind of work one could be honest about. So binning the card would’ve been the best option.

Yet putting it back in his trouser pocket and making the mental note to call was the option that John chose for some reason.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow to update because writer's block has become my best friend. Sorry about that.

Checking his watch for the fourth time in the past minute, John was pleased to note that there were only four minutes left before he was supposed to meet with Mycroft. That was, if Mycroft actually showed up to the café, given that John hadn’t actually spoken to the other man when scheduling the meeting, but rather some woman who sounded bored as she took down the message John left. If she had taken it down.

It was the uncertainty of the afternoon that led to the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach more than anything else. If it turned out that Mycroft didn’t show up, he could live with that because it was only his curiosity regarding the man that had led him to call. The minor attraction he felt toward him didn’t play a part in the feeling of nervousness at all. Especially since the meeting wasn’t meant to be anything more than another chance to talk to the man.

A chance that would definitely be happening, John noted as the man finally walked in.

Sitting up straighter in his seat, John looked the man over from head to toe, searching for some sign of a concealed weapon as Mycroft stood near the door tugging off his gloves. Yet, aside from the umbrella that rested on the crook of Mycroft’s arm, there was nothing. Pursing his lips, John forced himself to his feet as he saw Mycroft search the lunch crowd for him rather than dwell on the lack of weapon he had been expecting.

Walking over after placing his gloves in the pocket of the coat, Mycroft took rested the coat and his umbrella on the back of his chair before holding out his hand toward John. “Pleasure to see you again.”

“You as well,” John said as he shook the man’s hand. Gesturing for him to sit, John waited until Mycroft had taken his seat before doing the same thing.

“You did say one o’clock, didn’t you?” Mycroft questioned, folding his hands on the table.

“One o’clock exactly,” John said, fighting the urge to check his watch to see if the man was actually precisely on time. Instead, he looked at the empty cup to the left of the table and asked him, “You want anything?”

“No,” he said with a small smile. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.”

Nodding, John looked around the café quietly before focusing on Mycroft. He looked a lot like he had the last time he had seen the man. Not a hair out of place and in a rather nice looking tailored suit. A blue tie that brought out his eyes and went well with the dark coloured suit. And the most stunning thing of all was the fact that he didn’t seem entirely out of place as he sat there waiting for John to say something.

Coughing into his fist to clear his throat, John tried to act as though he hadn’t been staring at the quiet man as finally remembered to speak. “So, how have you been?”

“Well,” Mycroft said with a faint smile. “And you?”

“Good.”

“Ever catch that man you were after?”

“Yeah, I did,” he said perhaps a bit too quickly.

“And did you get whatever it was he owed you?”

Thinking back to the information on the treaty he hadn’t been able to recover from Fornaye, John frowned. Not that he had believed Fornaye when the man claimed to be innocent because John knew that to be a lie after watching him for days on end. It was just the fact that there was still vital information regarding an international military treaty out in the world reflected poorly on him and made his higher ups feel twitchy.

And no one liked a twitchy secret service.

Shaking off the thought, John flashed Mycroft a brief smile as he told him, “That I did not, but it wasn’t a big deal. More a matter of pride, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Leaning back in his seat, Mycroft flashed a small grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he ran a finger along the ring he wore. “Almost makes me wish that I had been a bit quicker to move. At least then you would’ve gotten what it was you were after.”

“Almost?” John questioned curiously.

“Well, if I had been quicker to move, I never would’ve met you and that seems like a rather unfortunate thing.”

“Right. Because you think I’m attracted to you,” he said, rolling his eyes at the man’s obvious attempt at flirting.

“You are and it’s mutual, just to let you know. Who knows? Maybe if I still like you when I leave we can attempt to go on an actual date rather than you inviting me out simply to figure me out.”

Narrowing his eyes at the other man, John asked, “How do you know this wasn’t my attempt?”

Not that he liked Mycroft’s assumptions that he was attracted to him, but the idea that the man figured out why he wanted to meet him in the first place rekindled John’s interest in his seemingly inherent and omniscience knowledge of the world around him. It wasn’t normal and despite what Mycroft said, it wasn’t simply written on his face because John had been trained to be a blank slate not worth looking at. Knowledge about people like him came from watching them and if someone was watching him, John wanted to put an end to the habit and person before something bad happened.

“The first thing you looked at when I walked in were my trousers and then my hands,” Mycroft stated as he levelled John with a bored stare.  “Clearly you’re more concerned with what I had had on my person the first time we met, which I don’t have with me at the moment.”

John shrugged as he drummed his fingers along the table. “Could’ve been checking you out.”

“But you weren’t. Besides, first dates do not happen at cafes.”

“And why is that?”

“I don’t do cafes,” Mycroft said with a small smirk.

And even if he wasn’t entirely certain what to make of the other man, he couldn’t deny the fact that he found the man’s presumptuousness and confidence rather charming in a smug sort of way. It worked well for the very image of a gentleman that sat across from him in a rather run of the mill café dressed in a three piece suit.

“Alright,” John said, doing his best to ignore the way Mycroft smiled at him by ducking his head. “So you’re not carrying anything dangerous aside from that umbrella.”

Turning toward the umbrella hanging off the back of his seat, Mycroft furrowed his brows in confusion as he looked it over. “How is my umbrella dangerous?”

“You could do a lot of harm with one of those if you know what you’re doing.”

“And you think I do?”

“Maybe.” Not that Mycroft gave the impression of being any sort of danger, but John had done away with enough average people to know that danger lurked in the least expected places at times. But rather than continue on that subject, John gave him a challenging look as he told him, “Although, I’m actually more concerned about how you knew those things about me since you can’t actually expect me to believe you simply observed all that.”

At that, Mycroft let out a heavy sigh as he leaned forward in his seat. “And why wouldn’t you? You can tell a lot about a person if you just pay attention. Those bags under your eyes say that you don’t sleep well, which is a pity. Bit nervous considering the way your left hand keeps twitching, but that’s my fault,” he said, letting out an amused noise as John immediately stopped drumming his fingers at the statement. “People reading you like an open book bothers you and that’s fair enough considering that it bothers most.”

“Who are you?”

“Mycroft. We’ve been over that.”

“Last name?” John said, his tone making it more of a demand than a question, for all his attempts to stay calm.

It simply wasn’t all that easy with the way Mycroft narrowed his eyes at him, clearly piecing together a puzzle that had nothing to do with the question he asked. “Why? Are you going to look into me? You wouldn’t find much.”

“And why is that?”

Between the statement and the idea that Mycroft expected him to look into him didn’t sit well with him. After all, as far as Mycroft knew, he was a soldier and had no reason to be afraid of him. Yet, for some reason, the man seemed strangely ill at ease giving his last name. It was horribly strange given that John knew spies who were less secretive about their lives than Mycroft was being.

Looking off toward the door as someone walked in, Mycroft pressed his lips into a thin line as though that would hold the words back. Because even if John couldn’t read people the way Mycroft did, it didn’t take a genius to see that the other man was feeling uncertain about something, even when he did finally look back at John, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“There’s not much to find, mostly. I’ve been a civil servant for what feels like a lifetime. I’m nothing special to anyone and I generally run numbers. Big numbers, but numbers none the less,” he confessed a bit unwillingly. Furrowing his brows, he shook off whatever thought had filled his mind before continuing on. “I’m a glorified calculator with a skill for reading others. Those two things make me quite the commodity to the government as you can imagine. So, occasionally, some issues of minor importance come my way.”

“So you’re just the typical Oxbridge bore with a keen eye for detail?”

“More or less. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Why should I believe you?”

 “I don’t know,” he said with a helpless shrug. Looking around at the other people in the café, he turned back toward John, adding, “Although, if it helps, there’s a woman across the café reading a book. Redhead, petite, generally nervous but not here. She feels comfortable here. Clearly a regular around these parts and rather interested in you as she wants to give you her number.”

“Does she now?” John questioned as he pinpointed the woman.

“Yes, because you’re an attractive man and mildly charming.”

Glaring at the mildly charming comment, John held back the urge to defend his charm as Mycroft smirked at him.

Looking back toward the woman in question, Mycroft let his shoulders fall before focusing on the table top. “Of course, with me here, she’s not quite sure if her efforts would be wasted if she tried. Although, I don’t blame her because I’m not entirely certain if my time has been wasted on you as well.”

“Your time hasn’t been wasted,” John said, placing his hand over Mycroft’s to get the man’s attention and to hopefully discourage the nice woman he spoke to on occasion. “Granted, I’m still curious about you, but… I don’t know. Maybe that’s a good thing?”

Judging by the look on Mycroft’s face such curiosity was accepted and rather mutual given the way he kept looking at John’s hand on his. Still, there was a small grin on his lips and a certain amount of amusement in his voice when he spoke. “Feeling inspired to be a bit more socially adept then?”

“Wondering what you consider a proper first date since this café isn’t good enough for you,” John teased, managing to look mildly wounded about the unforgotten insult that had been lodged towards his favourite café.

“I’m sorry, but it’s really not.” Stopping the conversation with a raised finger as his mobile when off, Mycroft retrieved it from his pocket. All sense of amusement draining from his face as he regarded the tiny screen, he gave an apologetic look towards John as he slowly pulled his hand away and stood up. “Work beckons. How about I text you a place to meet me at Friday night? If you decided to show up, we can continue this conversation. And if you don’t, well, I’ll get the message.”

“You didn’t seem to get the message when I pretty much told you I’m married to my work,” John pointed out, leaning back in his seat as he watched Mycroft put on his coat.

Pausing, Mycroft gave a brief nod of agreement. “I enjoy being a home wrecker under the right circumstances.”

“Rather rude of you.”

“You know you feel the same way given that I saw you staring at my ring. Yet you haven’t questioned it, though you want to. Scared of the answer?”

The answer was actually yes, although John hated that fact and would never admit to it. He was perfectly willing to overlook the modest metal band around the man’s ring finger, albeit in on the wrong hand, out of fear of the answer. If he didn’t ask the question, he wouldn’t run the risk of having to turn the other man away out of nothing more than his own moral code.

And yet, the question was hung unavoidably between them and to continue ignoring it was just as bad in his mind.

“Fine.” Sighing as he drummed his fingers against the table he reluctantly asked, “You married?”

“No. It’s simply a ring,” Mycroft said, inspecting the ring in question with a fond smirk. “But don’t you feel better actually knowing that?”

“Only if you weren’t lying.”

Laughing off John’s distrust as though it was meant to be some sort of joke, Mycroft shook his head wistfully. “I’m in a committed and fairly asexual relationship with the British Government and that’s it.”

“Good,” John said with a nod. “That makes two of us.”

After all, he could barely remember the last time he had went on a proper date, having let his work take over his life because it was simply easier that way. No one to answer to. No one to ask questions about his job. Sure, plenty of people he knew lied about their work, but he could never bring himself to create a web of lies functional enough to use day in and day out. He preferred half-truths and unanswered questions.

“See? So what’s the worst that could come of one date?”

“Your parents likely didn’t tell you no all that much as a child, did they?” John questioned teasingly.

Smiling, Mycroft shook his head. “No, but you find my oddly pushy nature rather intriguing.”

Which was true. Aside from the occasional odd relationship, John never found himself as the pursued. He was the one to make a good deal of the effort when he bothered and certainly lacked the persistence of the man in front of him unless it had to do with work.

A thought that had him checking his watch for the time as he asked him, “I thought you had a job to get back to?”

“I do. I’m stalling.”

John didn’t even have to ask why as he watched Mycroft pull his gloves from his coat pocket. Rising to his feet, John hesitated in holding out his hand toward the man, unsure if he wanted to feel the warm of Mycroft’s hand again or the cool feel of his leather gloves. In the end, it was the former he received as Mycroft shook his hand, seeming rather pleased about the simple gesture for reasons John couldn’t figure out.

Shaking off the thought, John forced up a smile and a dutiful nod as he said, “It was nice chatting with you.”

“You sound unsure about that,” Mycroft stated with nothing but certainty in his voice.

 “I still am,” he confessed as he looked Mycroft over. There was something about him that John couldn’t quite place and no amount of searching that pristine appearance gave him answers. Eyes settling on where he still held of Mycroft’s hand, he jerked his away like the touch had begun to burn, only to offer a nervously apologetic look at the man. “But perhaps, maybe, I’ll see you Friday. If this date actually happens.”

“I look forward to seeing you again, John. If it helps, my last name is Holmes.”

“Watson,” he said, if only to return the rather unexpected gesture. “John Watson.”

“Very Bond of you,” Mycroft laughed.

“Good day, Mr Holmes,” John stated, glancing toward the door.

Letting out a small sigh as he rolled his eyes, Mycroft left the café without another word or the slightest glance back toward John.

Taking his seat again, John ran his hands over his eyes as he quietly berated himself for whatever it was he had just gotten himself into. He should’ve been focused on work or even the missing treaty, but instead, he had spent his afternoon in a café holding hands with a man he barely knew because the bastard didn’t take no for an answer. It was annoying and foolish and the worst part was that, even with the last name of the man now known, John felt far more reluctant to do the right thing and look into the strangely observation civil servant.


End file.
